


Christmas Company

by MsWikit



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 06:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13025460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsWikit/pseuds/MsWikit
Summary: A cowboy and a hacker walk into a bar.





	Christmas Company

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Apologies for the awful Spanish, I haven't used any in two years.  
> 2) Probably going to do more of this because I have Ideas  
> 3) Welcome to McSombra Hell

“¿Comprarle una bebida a una chica?”

It was the nudge to the shoulder that alerted McCree that the question had been directed at him. He lifted his head from the bar and glanced to the left. A woman sat on the barstool next to his. She crossed her legs and smirked. 

“Hm?” McCree rubbed the side of his face. The bar wasn’t the best place to nap, but ironically, there was no room at any of the inns on Christmas Eve. The bartender, Arturo, was good people. He didn’t care what you did if you paid your tab at the end of the night. That included drooling all over his bar. “Come again?” 

“Don’t speak Spanish?” the woman said. She cocked her head slightly to one side. 

“No, I do,” McCree said. He’d picked it up in his days with the Deadlock Gang– and his knowledge only expanded during his time with Blackwatch. With so many people from so many parts of the world intermingling, you’re bound to pick up bits and pieces of other languages. “You just kind of got me mid-snooze is all.”

The woman smirked again. “Well, then. ¿Comprarle una bebida a una chica?”

McCree didn’t really have the funds. Since the train incident near Houston, he’d been attempting to lay low. Laying low meant no vigilante work. No work meant no money. But, hell, it was Christmas. And they were the only two sad fucks drinking alone. They might as well be two sad fucks drinking together. 

“Arturo! Dos cervezas, por favor,” McCree said. 

Arturo nodded curtly and began to fill their glasses without a word. 

“So what brings you here on Christmas Eve?” the woman asked. 

“Inns are full,” he said. “And I’m broke.”

Arturo slid their beers over. The woman sampled hers. “Not too broke to drink.”

McCree smirked a bit. “You’re never too broke to drink.”

That got a chuckle out of her. She had a nice laugh. There was something…odd about her, though. It wasn’t that she was familiar; McCree was sure he’d never met her before. He’d remember a girl that looked like her. She looked like she’d fit in well with the Los Muertos gang. Their people usually favored bright colors– in her case, it was pink and purple. She didn’t seem to have the tattoos, though. In this dim lighting you’d be able to see their faint fluorescent glow, at least. 

“You got a name?” he asked. He sipped his own drink. 

“Alita,” she said. “And you’re Jesse.”

That gave him pause. He slowly lowered his glass, looking at Alita cautiously. “How’d you know that?”

“I make it my business to know things,” she said. She swirled her finger along the rim of her beer glass. Her nails were hot pink, and seemed to be made of the same type of tech as whatever was attached to her head. “Plus, I recognized your picture from the holovids. Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. This place is pretty friendly to unsavory sorts. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

McCree gave her another cautious look. Then, he nodded. If his hunch was right and she was associated with Los Muertos, he doubted she’d rat him out. Her mere presence in the bar suggested she was an ‘unsavory’ sort herself. “You live round here, then?”

“I live all over,” Alita said. “I’m what you might call a…citizen of the world.”

“That a fact?” McCree raised an eyebrow, a bit amused. “Where all you been?”

“Just got back from Russia,” Alita said. “I saw all the sights. The war monuments. Even caught a glimpse of Katya Volskaya getting into her limo.” 

McCree let out an appreciative whistle, which made Alita grin again. She seemed like the sort of person to smile a lot. He’d been like that, once. When he was younger everything was a joke to him. Not so much anymore, these days. “And what are you doin’ drinkin’ in a bar on Christmas Eve?”

“Same thing as you,” Alita said. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say if you combined our collective families, you’d get approximately zero people.” 

He chuckled darkly. “You’d be right.”

“Omnic War?” she asked. 

“Yep,” he said. 

“Yo también,” Alita said. “I’ve done pretty well for myself, though.” 

“Wonder what that’s like,” McCree said. He was surprised the comment slipped out. The beer must have been working its magic. Along with the half a tumbler of whiskey he had prior to his little nap. 

Alita set her hand underneath her chin. “Not to be too nosy, but weren’t you with Overwatch? I heard rumors they’re starting up again.” 

“They’re true.” It seemed like a bad, bad idea to him. After everything that went down – the infighting, the mistakes, the government condemnations – Winston wanted to do it all over again? McCree was all for vigilantism. Hell, it paid the bills. But Overwatch had failed. Not only that, people had made it pretty damn clear they didn’t want their help. “Not that I’m falling back into that mess.”

“Why not? They’re heroes,” Alita said. 

McCree smirked. “You’d be the first I’d hear call them that in a long while.”

“It’s true,” Alita said. “Granted, you probably know more about what happened than I do…but it seems to me, the world needs heroes these days.”

He frowned into his beer, contemplating. Could it work this time…? Would they even want him back? McCree’s reputation hadn’t exactly improved a whole lot since Overwatch was shut down. To most people, he was still just Jesse the criminal. It wouldn’t be a good look for the group if they let him in, what with him being a part of Blackwatch-

“You’re overthinking,” Alita said. She seemed amused. Then again, it seemed like she’d been laughing at her own private joke throughout the entirety of their conversation. Did she know something he didn’t? Or was she just that type of person? “Sometimes, Jesse, you just have to do what you know is right. No matter what everyone else thinks.” 

“…who are you?” McCree asked. 

“A new friend,” Alita said, leaning forward. “A friend with a room at Las Alcobas.”

“That almost sounds like an invitation,” McCree said. He leaned back in his seat a bit, considering her again. She was a bit younger than him, but not by much. There was something alluring about her. The way she smirked, the way she looked at him…it was almost predatory. 

He was kind of into it. 

“That’s because it is,” Alita said, winking. 

McCree looked at his beer, then slammed it back. It went down easy. When you’re used to drinking enough whiskey to make you piss fire, beer isn’t much of a challenge. Alita followed his lead. She wiped the foam off her lips with the back of her hand. 

“Let’s go, then,” he said. 

Alita hopped from her seat and looked at him expectantly. When he just stared at her in confusion, she rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm. “I’m a lady, pendejo. Oooh, nice tech…is this tungsten?” She ran one of her nails over the metal on his bionic arm, apparently fascinated. 

“Good eye,” McCree said. “Let me just cash out-”

“No need,” Alita said. She pulled him towards the door, then shouted over her shoulder: “Arturo! Ponlo en mi cuenta!”

“And here I thought I was buying the drinks,” McCree said, chuckling as they exited the bar. The night air was icy cold. It didn’t really bother him, but Alita pressed closer to him. 

Alita smirked up at him. “You can make it up to me once we get to the room.”

“Yes ma’am.”


End file.
